Jane Gilley - The Woman Who Kept Everything

Val slapped the table, which made her husband jump.

‘Look, do you really think she’s just going to say, “Well, here’s the money from the house, Cleggy?” You’re mad if you do. I’ve seen how stubborn she gets, remember? Your poor dad, having to put up with all that junk brought into the house over the years. There was no room to breathe let alone live in. And remember the time we tried to help her? Took us days, remember? We cleared everything out and cleaned the house and put it all outside for the bin-men to take away and then she just dragged it all back in because she said it looked scruffy outside on the kerb! And that time Jessie fell. Well, the house is a ruddy danger zone too. The whole thing’s bloody crazy, if you ask me. And I’m an easy-going sort of person. Bottom line, though, Cleggy, she’s not going to simply roll over and die, whatever you might hope for.’

Clegg growled.

‘All right! I know she’s bloody stubborn, Val. But look at it this way – I’m her only son, so it’s all comin’ to me one way or another. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Val! Me and Mum have never really got on over the years, have we? We’ve tolerated each other, at best. So you don’t ever have to worry about her being a permanent fixture in our household. Plus you know I’ve only ever thought about us and the kids the whole way through this. I’ve had to put my own family first, especially since there was nothing more we could do to stop her hoarding. You can only do so much for someone. But that electrical fault – halleluiah – that was the icin’ on the cake, as far as I’m concerned! So I really do think that now she’ll see sense when I mention the uni bills for Adam and Jessie. She’ll want them to finish their education properly. She’ll want to help us out, Val. I’m sure of it.’

‘But it’s me who’ll be looking after her, Cleggy.’

‘Yes but not for long, sweetheart! Mebbe a year or so. Then we can put her away somewhere. She’s in the annexe, out of our hair, anyway. She’s got her own TV and things in there. She won’t be under our feet all the time. So it really shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll cope, Val. You’re a ruddy nurse for God’s sake; it shouldn’t be so difficult for you. Isn’t that why we planned this?’

Val shook her head again. ‘Yeah but at least with my patients I get to come home and have a rest. This is going to be full on, day in, day out. And what if she decides not to speak to me at all?’

‘Oh, look, you worry too much! Darlin’, I’ve got every intention of gettin’ her into a home one day soon. Don’t worry about that. But for the moment let’s just give it a go. Let’s get the place sold; see what we get for it. We’ll take her out for a drive later and see if we can get her to be more social. It’ll be fine, love. Trust me.’

In the conservatory, Gloria sat sipping her tea, staring at their wonderful garden, abloom with blue agapanthus, white lace-cap hydrangeas and Nelly Moser clematis, which Val had carefully sown and nurtured over the years, wistfully draping itself along the bottom wall. To give Val her due, she was a very caring sort of person and perfectly suited to being a nurse. But Clegg, even though he was her son and she loved him dearly, Clegg was a bully. She’d always known it. Forgiven it but known it.

Oh, Arthur had always called Clegg a ‘wild card’. He’d sailed too close to the wind in all manner of ways as a teenager and even managed to secure a few nights ‘in clink’ after one particular bloody episode of fighting, when he’d yelled at the arresting officer that he wished him dead in a very gruesome sort of way …

It had piqued Gloria, back then, that her son always dealt with all his problems via his fists. They certainly hadn’t brought him up to be like that. Arthur, usually affably patient, had finally snapped and told him to go get signed up and do his bit. Well, he’d got no other prospects when he left school and fighting with other kids on the estate seemed to be the common order of the day – every time he went out. In fact, he seemed to be a very angry young man, most of the time, and nobody knew why. Least of all Cleggy. So Arthur hoped the army might channel his energies in a more positive way.

‘You know, half me troubles are because of me name, Dad! Who in their right mind would give me the name of some stupid old fogey on Last of the Summer Wine ? Ain’t gonna put me right in me mates’ eyes, is it, Dad?’

But Arthur wasn’t to blame. He’d loved all the old comedies, as had Gloria. They’d roared at the exploits of characters in the likes of The Good Life , Steptoe and Son , Only Fools and Horses and the rest. Those were the days of endless good telly and irascible characters. In fact, Arthur had taken pride in the fact he’d given his son the name of a lovable household character, who’d caused millions of people to roll about laughing at the foibles of life.

‘But you’ve got a mate called Baron. What the ’eck is that about, son? Least Clegg is unique.’

‘It’s unique, Dad, ’cos no one else friggin’ wants a stupid name like that!’

Gloria had thought that, perhaps, Clegg’s name hadn’t helped matters. But, finally, after all her son’s troubles and a succession of failed relationships, he met a much older yet volatile woman called Babs who’d entered his life with three kids and a shed-load of her own problems; including a jealous ex-husband who’d sent Clegg flying through the doors of A&E and yet – fortunately – straight into the caring arms of nurse Valerie Robson.

Luckily Val had been his perfect foil and straightened him out, as far as Gloria could tell. He’d met her late in the day, as it were, but they’d still gone on to have the football-mad Adam and little sister Jessie, her perfect grandchildren.

Gloria often found herself thinking about the fun they’d had when Clegg and Val visited with the children when Arthur was alive. Those days were a mixed bag of memories but mainly sweet ones, Gloria chose to believe.

Well, she’d had nothing else to think about whilst being cooped up in her son’s house for these past two weeks with only the TV for company. They wouldn’t let her do anything or help out around the house, not even laying or clearing the table for breakfast or dinner. They just kept telling her to sit down and relax or watch TV. Yet since being deposited here with Clegg and Val, Gloria noted that her grandchildren were nowhere to be seen. She’d adored little Jessie and Adam but they hadn’t been brought to visit her in ages . She was trying to remember their last visit – gosh, probably a good ten or eleven years ago. The last time was when Jessie tripped and fell over some of the clutter in the lounge. My goodness, how she howled! So she’d’ve been around seven. They’d both be teenagers now.

Clegg explained that they weren’t currently at home because it was the school holidays so they were off camping in Wales with a load of their school chums and should be back home next week. Gloria couldn’t understand his emphasis on the word ‘should’. Were they coming back or weren’t they? What was that all about? Or had they turned into uncontrollable tearaways, since she’d last seen them? If they were in their teens now it could be a troubling time for them, Gloria thought, recalling her own problems with Clegg at that age. His problems had brought other boys’ mothers to their door, complaining about her son’s aggression. Or the school always phoning and wanting to see her. Once they’d even had a brick thrown through their window. Very unsettling times, they were.